


Never surrender

by Dmonius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:50:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dmonius/pseuds/Dmonius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Cormac are happily married. But what is their marriage based on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never surrender

Hermione couldn't remember the last day she had spent in freedom. She couldn't remember the first day she had spent in imprisonment. She could remember the days before, with her parents, with Ron, with Harry. She could remember the days after, with her job, her new life. With Cormac.

 

“Honey, I'm home.”

She stood in the kitchen with the apron he had given her the other day. He walked in and hugged her from behind, kissing her neck.

“Missed me, little one?”

She turned around. “More than ever.”

Cormac looked at the kitchen table. Dinner was just finished and the look on his face turned from stern to tender. He smiled and kissed her, pulling her close. Then, he affectionately smacked her butt and pushed her towards the dinner table.

 

Hermione could feel the anger inside her. She couldn't succumb to it. Hermione could feel the love she felt for Cormac. She could only succumb to it.

 

“The minister was very pleased with my progress,” Cormac said, chewing on the mushrooms. “We will probably have new house elf laws in a few weeks. My promotion will probably make me the youngest member of the board in a hundred years. You should have seen the look on Percy's face when I made the announcement myself.”

“What kind of laws?” Hermione asked. “Anything progressive?”

“Well, the minister and I decided to tighten the restrictions on the elves' behavior. They will only be allowed to do spells when it comes to housework. Any other conduct has to be specifically approved by the owner,” Cormac said, and resumed eating on his mushrooms. “They're delicious, honey!”

“That's awful.”

“No, they're really good. You're getting good at the kitchen. And even better in the bedroom,” he added with a smirk.

“I meant the elves. We shouldn't restrict them. We should give them more rights, more freedom. They are individuals in their own –“

“Honey,” he said, quietly and with patience.

“– right and should have certain, inalienable –“

“Honey!” He was louder now, but Hermione could feel the power and seized it.

“– rights like any other human be–“

“Hermione!” He slammed his hand on the table and she looked up to him. “No more of this trash, Mudblood,” he ordered. “We have the minister and his wife over tomorrow and I want no more of this talk. Understood?”

Hermione just shook her head and resumed eating. There was a tear in her eye, but she tried to suppress it.

“Understood, honey?” Cormac asked.

She whispered a reply. She couldn't hear it herself, it was probably nothing.

“Honey. Do I make myself clear?”

She could feel it and looked up. She saw the stern look on his features, how he showed no mercy. Not even to her. “Go to hell,” she said.

 

Hermione could still look at his invitation for dinner. She could remember how Ron had broken up with her only a week before. She could remember how Cormac invited her to a nice Muggle restaurant. She could hear how he went on and on about what a great kind of guy he was. She could see what he was saying, how he the pureblood, she the muggle-born would make a perfect match.

 

What happened next, usually happened during those moments. He shook only his head and then pulled out his wand. But it was different this time. He laid his wand on the table and stood up, walked to her side of the table. He caught her neck and pulled her head into his direction.

“Do you love me?” he asked and Hermione could see belief, hope in his features as if he was hoping for a certain answer.

“I think I do. But I don't believe it at all.”

His index finger traced along her features, her lips, her eyebrows. “I thought so. Same procedure as every time.”

He just reached out his hand and the wand flew into his fingers. He didn't even have to say the curse, so well had he memorized it already. Hermione could feel how all signs of disobedience had disappeared, but she still despised him. Then, he pulled out a small bottle of his vest and said: “Drink it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She drank the potion and felt it. Felt the love coming back to her and her whole demeanor suddenly changed. He kissed her, and it was a great kiss.

“Do you love me, Honey?” he asked, again.

“With all my heart.”

“I don't want that anymore,” he said. “It's getting rarer and rarer, but still: I love you, Hermione. I protect you. And what do you have to do?”

“Obey,” she said. “I am sorry, Cormac. I shouldn't disagree with you. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course.”

A tear again in her eye. It was out of sadness, sheer sadness for the things she had and the things she missed.

 

Hermione couldn't remember the exact moment. She could only see the light in whose spectrum he appeared ever more beautiful, ever more perfect, ever more desirable. She could remember how she gave herself to him that night and every night since then. She could remember the wedding where all she did was obey.

 

Later that night, after they had made love, she was lying in his arms. She had one hand on her stomach and knew what was growing there. It was their child, but his only. She kissed him and he responded like any good husband would.

“I've got something to tell you,” she said.

“I already know,” he replied. He turned her over and laid his hand on her stomach. “What do you think it will be?”

“I wouldn't mind having a small princess,” she said, but he shook his head. “But a boy would be beautiful. He could be just like his father. Handsome in his features, powerful with his spells.”

“How would you like Scott? Scott McLaggen sounds great to me.”

“And Emma, if we get a girl.” He rolled his eyes and she laid a hand on his chest. “I know. But who says we shouldn't be prepared?”

“Let's just hope we don't get a Squib. That's all that matters.”

Hermione felt the urge to lecture him, to lecture him on the value of a Squib in the wizard's society, where he was so adamant to make a good impression, but he didn't want her to do so, so all she did was obey, nod and close her eyes.

 

Hermione could feel the content and contempt when he finally passed away. She couldn't exactly say when the spell had been broken. But she only needed to look at her children and grandchildren and grand-grandchildren to know that any change was impossible now. He had given her no final order. She no longer needed one.


End file.
